Welcome to February, month of hearts and flowers, of chocolate and valentines!
 |
To enter, link to the blog below (containing the rafflecopter form) and complete the entry form, giving your email address. By entering you are giving your permission to join all six authors’ newsletter lists. We hope you’ll enjoy them, but you may opt out at any time. The Be Our Valentine promotion is open February 1 – 15, 2025. One winner will be chosen and notified by email after the promotion closes. The winner will receive paperback copies of these books: A Token of Love, Cloaked in Beauty, This Promised Land, As Sure As the Sea, The Indigo Heiress, and Midnight on the Scottish Shore. Some are upcoming releases and will be mailed as soon as they are available. This promotion is open to readers with US mailing addresses only.
Writing News:
In Honor of Valentine’s Day, This Promised Land is now available for Pre-Order.
 |
I’ve long loved the language and meanings of flowers. Writing This Promised Land (available now for pre-order) provided the perfect opportunity to share my love, just as in the story, young Arlo shares with her fourth-grade class when asked to give a presentation on what she did during summer vacation. Here’s an excerpt from This Promised Land :
“I didn’t really go anywhere, not anywhere away. My family came from out west in the spring, and we stayed here on the mountain. I live with my pa and my sister and brother and Aunt Ginny Dee and Aunt Bethany and Uncle Luke at Wetherill Pickering’s Christmas Tree Farm, and I love it. There’s no other place like it.”
“That old Christmas tree farm? Just a bunch of fields of cut- down trees,” Jake Stillcoat, a good-looking boy half a head taller than Arlo, snickered. Half of the class, especially the girls, followed suit.
“Jake, that’s enough.” Miss Norris spoke firmly but hardly any-body paid her any mind.“It’s more than that. I don’t mean the Christmas trees. Until I moved here, I never saw the sun rise over the mountain in so many colors or set in a flame of fire before dusk. I never saw trees stand dark against a sky studded with stars— so many you’d think they were fireflies alive in the heavens.”
The room went quiet. Miss Norris looked up, tilted her head. “Go on, Arlo.”
“Before I moved here, I never knew the names of flowers, or what they mean— that there even was a language of flowers. Aunt Ginny Dee taught me that every flower has a name— a botanical name and a common name, and every flower, every plant has a meaning. You can send a whole message to another person in a bouquet of flowers and it’s secret unless the person you’re sending them to can understand that language too.”
You could hear a pin drop.
Arlo pulled the frame from her backpack and held it close to her stomach. “My brother and sister and I collect flowers and leaves. Sometimes we find them in Aunt Ginny Dee’s gardens, or we go hunting wild ones together. Sometimes I trek the mountain alone, searching out new and higher places. I find new haunts all the time and new flowers and leaves— some I know the names of and more I don’t— and bring them back home where Aunt Ginny Dee helps me press them. We have to change the papers every couple of days to get the moisture out, so they don’t mold or go brown, so they keep their color. But once they’re dried, we use a special glue, Aunt Bethany does the lettering because her printing’s the best, and we make pictures out
Arlo turned her picture around and held it up. She dared to look at the class, surprised she held their attention, especially the girls. But the boy who’d made fun of her crossed his arms over his chest and glared.
“That’s beautiful!” Emily, Mrs. Shellhorn’s granddaughter, gasped. “You made that yourself?”
Arlo nodded. “It’s not hard once you know how. Just takes patience, and you have to be careful not to tear the flowers. We make all sorts of pictures and sell them.”
“You said all the flowers mean something. What do those mean?” Ann Prescott asked.
Arlo warmed. “That’s a really fun part, learning the meanings. The dark green laurel leaves symbolize growth, good health, and renewal. That fits, because I think that’s what moving to New Scrivelsby and the mountain has done for me and my family. Some folks say laurel leaves mean fame— like the laurel wreaths Roman and Greek emperors used to wear— but I like renewal. That’s a good word. “Sweet peas mean thank you— gratitude and friendship— and that’s fitting, too, because friendship’s what my family found here, and we’re grateful. Dark pink roses can mean gratitude, too, but also love and joy. All of these together say what I feel about the farm, about staying here. I just hope we can— stay, I mean.”
Arlo sat down,shoved her picture back into her book bag, and kept her eyes on her desk. Heat traveled up her neck. She’d never talked so much to strangers in her life.
***
Pressed flowers, like those Arlo shared, can be used to create lovely and thoughtful gifts for Valentine’s Day or any Just-Because-Day.
 |
 |
A friend, Sara Edi Boyd, introduced my brother, Dan, and me to the fascinating process of pressing and preserving flowers and leaves to create beautiful works of art. I saw this as a project I’d love to do with my grandchildren.
 |
Last spring I planted flowers, roses, and other botanicals in my home garden that I hope will produce hours of creative fun with my grands.
 |
Our first project was to create treasure boxes using our pressed flowers. I bought wooden boxes from Hobby Lobby. The children painted them, decoupaged the pressed flowers to their tops, and finished with more layers of decoupage.
My granddaughters use their creations as jewelry boxes. My grandson hides his favorite toy car in his. The possibilities are endless!
A Little Flower Language for Valentine’s Day:
Red roses mean I love you. Red tulips mean believe me in this declaration of love. Green ivy, often entwined in arrangements or bouquets can mean fidelity or friendship or even wedded love. Baby’s Breath, the constant staple in bouquets, means innocence, purity, and new beginnings.
For every flower there is a meaning—or more than one. It’s said that in years gone by bouquets were sent as messages—messages the giver and receiver would clearly understand. Though mostly long forgotten, I’m all for reviving the beautiful language of flowers.
An option to pressing or sending fresh flowers, is this edible bouquet of red strawberry “roses”—so fun to make and to eat!
 |
 |
Wherever you are, take care and stay warm during this very cold weather. Treat yourself to a good book, a bouquet of flowers, and a steaming mug of hot chocolate or your favorite tea. I wish you all the love and joy life has to hold this Valentine month!
Until next time, happy reading, and God’s great blessings for you,
Cathy